By Any Other Name
by Melika Elena
Summary: Most women, when pregnant, crave various and often disgusting foods.  Let it be known that Hermione Granger Weasley is not most women. Who would have ever gussed that Hugo got his name from a famous author?  Or, you know, his mother's exboyfriend.


**Notes: **I actually sort of despise RHr, but I'm willing to put aside my pairing prejudices in favor for this little plot bunny. Enjoy!

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**What's in a Name?**

Most women, when pregnant, craved various types of food. Anything from mint ice cream, to pickles, to yogurt, to crayfish, to curry… well. You get the idea.

Nobody ever said though that Hermione Weasley (nee Granger) was like "most women."

In the throes of pregnancy, Hermione craved books. And not just any kinds of books. Oh no, she was very particular about what she read.

When she was pregnant with Rosie, Hermione craved the three P's: poetry, philosophy and political literature. Sophocles, Dickenson, Plato, Shakespeare—she read them all, with a speed and intensity that reminded her husband Ron scarily of their exam time in their Hogwart years.

At first, the woefully obtuse Ron did not understand.

"Err… are you sure you wouldn't like me to run to the store for something?" He would ask tentatively.

"No," she would tell him. "But it would be wonderful if you could run across to the library and pick up some more books for me."

Eventually Ron gave up and soon sparked up a rather ingenious deal with the library that was similar to the American service "Netflix"—He would put in a request list in advance and the library would simply owl (or mail, depending on the library) the books directly to their home, and when Hermione was done speed-reading them, the books would be owled back. Their auburn owl, Scarlet, did not take kindly to returning the heavy tombs Hermione took to reading, but Ron made sure to reward her as he himself always liked to be: with copious amounts of food.

During her pregnancy with Hugo, Hermione had taken to reading a much broader scale: classical books.

In particular, Hermione was greatly taken with the works of Victor Hugo.

Perhaps some of this appeal was learning the language of French along the way—at first she had attempted to read some of his work in English, but quickly sought for a greater challenge. Thus, she taught herself some French (and perhaps that sounds too vague and easy of a task, but this is Hermione Granger, mind you,) and set in at some of Victor Hugo's work.

She read everything—from _Hunchback of Notre Dame, _to_ Les Miserables, _to_ Cromwell, _to_ Napoleon le Petit, _to_ Hemani. _Everything was Victor Hugo. Ron, although he knew the man had been dead for years, harbored jealousy for the modern-day renaissance man.

But the two parents had another problem on their hands; at that point in time, with Hermione eight months, two weeks, and four days along in her pregnancy, they still had not thought of a name.

With a family as big as the Weasley's they thought they may be able to name their unborn son with a family name. But with a family as big as the Weasley's, the family names had all been taken by Ron's brothers children. Which was fine, Hermione would say later, because she wanted _her _children to be individuals anyway.

This would plague the two for awhile until one night, after (finally) putting down _Les Miserables_ after re-reading it for the fourth time, Hermione told Ron frankly, "I've thought of a name for the baby."

Ron, amazingly, had heard this, and put down the Quidditch magazine he was reading immediately. "Really now?" He said. "Well, let's hear it then."

"I want him to be Victor Hugo Weasley."

Ron stared at her blankly. _Bloody hell. How could I have not seen this sooner?_

He then thought to himself a minute. _Because it's __**me**__. Right._

At first, after the slight flicker of amusement had passed, Ron seriously started to consider the name. _Wouldn't be so bad. Victor's a distinguished sort of name. I don't know too many Vic—Oh __**hell no!**_

"I am not naming our son 'Victor'," Ron said crossly.

Hermione, taken back by Ron's irritation, demanded, "Well why not? There's nothing wrong with the name Victor."

Ron made a face. "Do you honestly think that I want my son to share that name?"

"Share it? With who? With one of the greatest playwrights and writers of all time?" Hermione shot back, hormones working overtime.

"Let's think, shall we, Hermione," Ron shouted. "It's not about sharing it with that goddamn writer! How about, _our_ son, sharing _that name_ with your ex-_boyfriend_?"

Hermione was silent for a moment. Clearly, she had forgotten about Viktor-- Krum, that is. "Oh," she said.

"Yeah, 'oh,'" Ron said, cheeks and ears flaring up, as was his temper. "What are people going to say? Oh god, they'll think you named him after Krum. People are going to call you a 'scarlet woman'—"

_Smack!_

"Ronald Weasley," screeched Hermione as Ron cradled his abused cheek. "If you think I'm going to stand around and be insulted in my own _home,_ by my own _husband_, then you are sorely mistaken." She stood silent for one moment, and Ron knew that her next words weren't going to be good. "You know what? I'm going to Harry's! I won't be insulted _there_."

"I don't think you'll be going to Harry's anytime soon," Ron said, his face now deathly pale.

"And why is that?" snapped Hermione, clearly on her last line.

Ron pointed to the damp floor. "Uhh, I'm not an expert or anything… but I think your water broke."

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Originally in the pregnancy, Hermione wanted to go through labor the natural way. No drugs, no numbing, no nothing. She wanted to experience what millions of woman in the past had. It was her right as a woman to do so and it would be excellent as far as first-hand experiences went.

Ron could not help but think that she was "utterly daft" but kept his thoughts wisely to himself. He had heard stories, after all, about the kind of things hormones did to women.

But now, as she was screeching in pain, clutching at his (he was sure of it) broken hand, Ron couldn't help but wonder if it would have been worth speaking up back then. He was sure the pain he could have possibly endured then wouldn't have been as excruciating as he was experiencing now.

"Ronald Weasley!" She yelled above the nurses calls of "Push, push!" and "Ee-oo, ee-oo," "I swear to Merlin, I'm going to kill you for getting me into this when this is all over!"

Her husband was too pained to even _think _of responding, "It takes two to tango, love."

And when it was all over, when he was moping sweat from her brow and as she cradled their son in her arms, Ron couldn't help but run the name over in his head.

_Victor Weasley._

_Victor Hugo Weasley._

_Hugo Victor Weasley._

_Hugo Weasley._

_Hugo. _That didn't have a bad ring to it. He could live with Hugo. Maybe they could call him Hugh, or Huey, or something like that as well. And "Hugo" could always be a reminder of what they (read: he) had endured during the pregnancy.

Yeah. Hugo Weasley. That sounded nice.

"Hermione," he said, tentative once again.

"Mmm?"

"I was thinking…"

"Uh-oh…"

"Oh, hush, you," he said good-naturedly. "I was thinking about a name for this little guy."

"And?" Her voice held a bit of a wary edge to it.

"I don't want the name Victor, but I'm… I'm willing to compromise on it. What do you think of Hugo Weasley?"

She tossed the name back and forth in her head and as her son's eyes cracked open blearily at her, she could see the intelligence there.

Yes.

"Hugo Weasley it is," she smiled up at her husband. "I say, Ron, that's the best idea you've had in _years_."

Ron rolled his eyes, but declined to comment. Instead, he put his arm around his wife and son, cherishing his precious little family.


End file.
